


What the Future Demands

by 0o_Demigod



Series: The Dynamics of Azeroth [2]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: Alpha Tyrande, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, I don't hate Malfurion, Malfurion dies in Legion, Marriage Contracts, Marriage of Convenience, Mild Smut, Omega Thalyssra, The omegaverse is very slight compared to others, Unplanned Pregnancy, You will find no slander here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 02:55:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22008838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0o_Demigod/pseuds/0o_Demigod
Summary: A one-night stand has unintended consequences for the First Arcanist of Suramar and a High-Priestess still trying to get over her husband's tragic death.
Relationships: Jaina Proudmoore/Sylvanas Windrunner, Thalyssra/Tyrande Whisperwind, implied
Series: The Dynamics of Azeroth [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1343005
Comments: 28
Kudos: 171





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, this story is designed to follow the Dynamics of Azeroth theme, which obviously follows Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics. So, if you don't like that stuff, I would recommend that you don't read this story.  
> Anyway, this is just a little idea I had floating in my head. Thought I might as well try to give a shot at posting it.  
> I don't own Warcraft.

The suspicion first starts when she suddenly can’t stand the smell or taste of her favorite wine anymore, the very sight of it is almost enough to send her running for the nearest waste-bucket to rid her stomach of whatever food she’d eaten that day. 

The suspicion grows when spells become harder to power, when she becomes quicker to tire and exhaust herself after training sessions with Valtrois. 

Thalyssra isn’t quite sure what’s going on, she’s constantly feeling emotional and quick to anger. Oculeth tip-toes around her temper, and everyone becomes very aware of the fact that _something’s off with the First Arcanist._

The war’s still in planning, and she’s frustrated and worried about the strategy that the High Overlord and the Warchief have put together. 

Perhaps taking Darnassas will break the Alliance, but she was sure that they’d drag the Horde down right along with them. 

She knows first-hand how dangerous and terrifying the wrath of the High-Priestess can be- the alpha’s power was something to be concerned about.Especially since her deceased mate, Malfurion Stormrage, was no longer there to restrain her. Attacking the Night-Elves would be a disastrous move by the Horde if anything were to go wrong.

And let it be known that her hesitation had absolutely _nothing_ to do with the previous encounter the Thalyssra had shared with Whisperwind following Suramar’s liberation from Elisande and the destruction of the Night-Well. 

Her inner worry is forgotten when she begins getting sick in the mornings, the omega waking up with intense waves of nausea. The bathroom quickly becomes her most visited part of her estate, and she is forced to leave most of the early day matters to her companions for several days. 

It’s on the second week that Valtrois visits, the high-ranking arcanist is rattled by Thalyssra’s illness, and worries that she might have been poisoned.

At her behest, they go over the symptoms, and it doesn’t match with any known poisons. For a moment, they consider the option of a new poison having been used, but something akin to a light-bulb clicks on over Valtrois’s head as she watches Thalyssra become nauseated at the smell of one of her favorite desserts. 

The arcanist looks very intently at the leader of Suramar, her arcane eyes narrowing significantly as realization dawns in them, “Thalyssra… have you considered the chance of a pregnancy being the culprit?”

“I’m on suppressants,” She looks over at her fellow omega in alarm. “I can’t conceive.”

“Maybe the Nightwell’s demise did something?” Valtrois offered. “Stellagosa _has_ mentioned that most of Suramar’s citizens have smelt a little off these past few months, and the reported pregnancies have nearly doubled since Elisande was overthrown.”

“That could have a million different explanations,” Thalyssra retorted, although the faint feeling of panic was rising fast in her chest. 

“But what if I’m right?” Valtrois pointed a slender finger in her long-time friend’s direction, “What if you _are_ pregnant?”

Thalyssra shook her head vehemently, “That’s not possible. It’s just not. It can’t be.”

“If you say so,” Valtrois shifted slightly in her sink, a knowing look on her face. “But it has been an _awfully_ long time since your last heat, hasn’t it?”

Thalyssra froze, her face slowly going pale. Abruptly, she shot up from her seat, heading over to the bookcase and pulling out her personal medical schedule. 

After a minute of frantic reading, she turns back to Valtrois with a look of horror, “You’re right. My heat… it’s over a month late.”

Valtrois stands fluidly, already jumping into action, “Stay here. I’ll get the test.”

The First Arcanist doesn’t need to be told twice, the omega sinking into her seat with careful consideration as she mulls over the option. 

Pregnancy was a rarity in Suramar. Elisande had kept a firm grip on population control during her reign, and Thalyssra never had a relationship of enough importance to even consider having a child. She was careful with her heats, and always used protection whenever she took a partner. 

All except for one mistake; a stupid, _stupid_ heat of the moment decision made in drunken bliss that apparently was finally coming back to haunt her after all. 

That was just fan-fucking-tastic. 

Valtrois returned with the potion in record time, the arcanist choosing the most immediate one she could remember. 

She sets a bowl down before Thalyssra on the desk, pouring the liquid into the container and then gesturing for the taller omega’s hand. 

The small pinprick on her pointer finger is barely large enough to draw a few drops of blood, but they still watch with bated breath as the drops drip down into the bowl. 

The dark red blood immediately stains the clear liquid crimson, but it’s the after-effect that they need to see. 

Several seconds later, as the two omegas watch in agonized silence, the potion shimmers.

The red stain turns dark blue, spreading until the entirety of the liquid is the same color. 

Neither of them can speak, a shared look of disbelief and wonder on their faces. 

Valtrois finally makes the first sound, a low whistle leaving her mouth, “Well, _ok._ That happened.” She looks over at Thalyssra, who’s still staring unbelievingly at the bowl, “You alright, Thal?”

The nickname snaps her out of her dazed state, “Yeah, yeah, I’m just…” She shakes her head, “Gosh, I don’t even know _how_ to feel.”

“Surprised is probably a good start,” Valtrois offers helpfully. 

All Thalyssra can do is bury her face in her hands and let out a muffled scream of frustration, her entire body tense. Something else occurs to her, a little tidbit of information about her unborn child’s other parent. 

“Oh damn,” she shoots to her feet, sending a frantic look in Valtrois’s direction. “I _have_ to speak with the Warchief.”

“Why?” The other arcanist gives her an odd look, “You still got another month at least until the pregnancy will prevent you from being able to properly wield the arcane. Just wait until then. You probably won’t even be needed for the assault on Darkshore.”

“There _can’t_ be an assault!” Thalyssra snapped, “Unless you wish for this war to turn into one big custody battle when the pregnancy becomes public knowledge!”

Valtrois’s eyes went wide, “ _No way._ It’s- What- _Oh my goodness!_ You got knocked up at the victory celebration, didn’t you!?”

“You remember what I told you, right?” Thalyssra miserably confirmed, “I haven’t been with anyone else since then.”

“Elune’s ass,” Valtrois cursed. “Well, you better hurry on over to Orgrimmar, and hope you can get the Warchief’s attention before all hell breaks loose.”

“Yeah,” Thalyssra immediately began summoning a portal. _“I kinda already knew that.”_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the assault on Darkshore abruptly grinds to a halt, the Alliance isn’t really sure of what to do. 

When the first missives come alerting them of the ceasefire, they’re quick to move their forces back into the area, setting up along the borders of the Night-Elves’ territory.

The Horde guards their own borders, and for several weeks there’s no communication from the red faction’s leaders. 

And then message comes through- the Warchief’s insignia inscribed upon the envelope. 

Sylvanas Windrunner announces that she is open to negotiations regarding a treaty between the Horde and Alliance, and that a meeting in Dalaran will be held in a little under a fortnight should the Alliance agree to attend. 

Obviously, there’s confusion. But Khadgar himself confirms that he will play mediator, and the Alliance leaders hesitantly agree to the proposition. 

Greymane foams at the mouth at the thought of peace with his hated enemy, and the Night-elven leaders are not much better. 

The assault on Darkshore may have stopped, but the Horde had cut a bloody path across the land, nearly making it all the way to Teldrassil. 

Tyrande cannot forgive the bloodshed, especially since it had only been a matter of months since her mate’s death. The hurt is still there, felt across all rings of the Kaldorei people. The attack only further ignites their fury, a dangerous storm of rage that grows as the full report of casualties becomes known. 

The leadership assembles in the Dalaran meeting room before the Horde arrives, postures tense and filled with anticipation. 

When Sylvanas Windrunner finally strolls in, she’s over half-an-hour late. But the Banshee has the gall to act as if she’s arrived early. 

Her champion is right behind her, followed by the other Horde leaders who all wear matching expressions of weariness. 

Something’s going on that the Alliance doesn’t see, and hardly any of them notice that the First Arcanist has switched her usual outfit out for long slightly form-fitting robes that bare little skin. 

Those who do take notice attribute it to the changed climate of Dalaran, and therefore do not give it much more thought besides that. 

Only one person recognizes the robes for what they are. 

Jaina Proudmoore’s eyes go wide when she sees the First Arcanist wearing the robes of an expectant mage, her arcane-enhanced sight picking up on the little runes engraved into the fabric that are meant to safeguard and nurture a growing life. 

Quietly, she leans over to Anduin, and whispers the little tidbit as quickly as she could. Using her power to block the conversation off from unwanted ears.

The young King is quick to cover his surprise, and stores the knowledge away until the time came to use it. 

The first ventures of conversation are hostile and hard to work around. Sylvanas is flippant about the Alliances worries of the Horde, and Anduin is still much too green at the negotiating table to even intimidate her. The other leaders all fall in line with their default associations. 

Suddenly, the idea of another war erupting between the Alliance and Horde doesn’t seem unlikely. 

Finally, it’s the proposed peace treaty that brings their attention back to the matter at hand. 

Immediately, the topic of longevity is the hottest issue in the room. 

“How would the treaty last?” Lor’Themar asked, the lines obviously having been rehearsed. “We’ve signed these things before. A signature only goes so far when it comes to ceasefires between our factions.”

“A wise question,” Velen inclined his head. “Something that it seems the Warchief has already given thought to.”

“As perceptive as ever, prophet,” Sylvanas smirked lowly. “I know many of you may doubt my intentions, but my desire to see the Horde survive remains true. Recently, one of my subordinates came to me with a rather _delicate_ piece of information. One that makes me realize that perhaps war is not the answer, after all.”

“And just what would the answer be then, Banshee!?” Genn snarled, “Do you expect the Alliance to just kneel over and allow you to get away with attacking the Darkshore!?”

“You may charge me with the attack on Darkshore just as soon as the Alliance charges you with treason for ignoring orders and attacking my people at Stormheim,” Sylvanas grinned. “Which was done during a time when we were _supposed_ to be working together against the Legion.. Isn’t that right, High-King?”

Anduin’s nose wrinkled up, as if the beta could smell deception. But he none-the-less concurred with the Warchief’s words, “We’re here to secure peace for the future. Provisions for the Night-Elves will be made after we’ve negotiated the treaty and it’s safeguards.”

“I agree,” Sylvanas drew herself up dramatically. “Now, we all speak of the future quite earnestly, but how easy it is to forget the ones who will actually be there. The next generation will be the key to ensuring the fighting stops, so we must be sure that the mistakes we made are not repeated by our children.”

“And how exactly are we supposed to do that?” Jaina’s eyes bored into Sylvanas with rapid intensity. The alpha was perhaps the only one who could truly get under the Banshee’s skin, and she _knew_ it, “What great plan do you have to deal with this, Sylvanas?”

The undead beta momentarily seemed to lose her voice when her old short-lived flame addressed her, but she steadied herself before most could notice, her eyes flashing gleefully, “Why by leading through example, of course!”

She turned in Thalyssra’s direction, the Suramar-born omega stiffening when the entire room’s attention fell onto her, “The First Arcanist is the one who convinced me that this would work, due to the personal situation that she has found herself in. I found it to be a very interesting little confession- something that surely could have been used against your precious Alliance. Unfortunately, war is only viable for a limited time, and I’m afraid the clock may be running out on all of us to find a peaceful alternative.”

“Speak clearly, Banshee,” Tyrande demanded, although her eyes ventured treacherously in Thalyssra’s direction. 

Who for her part had been steadily avoiding the High-Priestess’s gaze. 

Anduin looked over at the First Arcanist with a widening gaze of realization, “You- you’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

If the statement surprised any on the Horde side, they didn’t show it. 

However, the Alliance was quite the opposite. Many reared back, while others just gaped slack-jawed at the new Horde leader. 

But it was Tyrande’s reaction that was most suspect, her face going pale as she froze in her seat.

Not many noticed, but the grin that Sylvanas sent in her direction made it very clear that she knew the _whole_ story. 

This- this was going to be problematic. 

Thalyssra’s gaze settled on the young Wrynn, her face solemn, “I am.”

“How did you know?” Saurfang rumbled suspiciously, the old orc crossing his massive arms over his chest. 

“Her robes are designed for expecting mages,” Jaina spoke up, coming to her adopted nephew’s defense. “It’s a tradition shared by all magical users, and one that hasn’t changed since the days of Azshara. I recognized them for what they are and alerted the King accordingly.”

“We could expect no less of you, Proudmoore,” Sylvanas smiled slowly. “But yes, the First Arcanist is pregnant. Yet, here’s the kicker, one that hasn’t been shared with anyone besides myself- the sire is a member of _the Alliance!”_ She cackled, “And as much as I would enjoy being given the honor of _exposing_ the illicit love-affair, I must concede that point to the First Arcanist.” Sylvanas nodded in her direction, “Who, despite this little mishap, has proven herself to be a loyal member of the Horde, and a fierce advocate for peace on Azeroth.”

Anduin rubbed at his forehead, “So, you’re saying that you got the idea for cross-faction cooperation, because the First Arcanist is apparently having a child with someone from the Alliance.”

“A child with ties to both sides,” Thalyssra’s eyes were hard. “I admit that none of this was planned. The pregnancy was accidental, but the implications for the future were great.”

Sylvanas looked over the entire room, her smile becoming wider with each passing second, “It will be children like these that lead the future. Our heirs will know loyalty to Azeroth as a whole, and peace will be gained through their existence.”

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this, Warchief,” Anduin could give her that. “Let us dismiss for the day, I’m sure we all have a lot to consider.”

~~~~~~~~~

Contrary to Anduin’s words, she wasn’t granted a single moment of peace after that. 

People hounded her, asking questions or giving their awkwards congratulations on the pregnancy, 

For Thalyssra it was suffocating. She hadn’t asked for this to happen, and definitely didn’t like all the extra attention that had been placed on her. 

She thought retreating to her chambers would offer her some much missed privacy. 

Truthfully, she should have known better. 

Tyrande waited for her in the main living space of her rooms, seated in the largest armchair before a roaring hearth. 

For a second, she considered bolting back out the door, but the moment those eyes turned to her she knew the jig was up, “You could have knocked.”

“You weren’t here, First Arcanist,” Tyrande’s steely eyes were unforgivable. “Wouldn’t have looked very good if someone had seen me waiting for you in the hall.”

It wasn’t hard to tell that Whisperwind was _mad._ Thalyssra could practically smell it. Tyrande was projecting pheromones like crazy, the type designed to intimidate opponents. 

But Thalyssra wasn’t so easily pushed aside, and she would be damned before she willingly bared her neck to an alpha acting like _that,_ “Tone down the dominance show, Priestess. Your anger will win you no points here.”

Tyrande bared her teeth, before she sank back into the chair with a grudging look, her gaze turning back to the hearth’s fire, “How far along are you?”

“Four months now,” Thalyssra replied. “I found out maybe a month ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her eyes weren’t too accusatory, but they definitely weren’t understanding either.

Thalyssra looked away, “Sylvanas had signalled her intentions for an invasion of your territory. I was dealing with some rather severe morning sickness and had left most of Suramar’s runnings to Valtrois. By the time I found out I was pregnant, the Warchief had already given the go ahead for the invasion.” She pursed her lips, “I argued quite fiercely for her to call it off, and she finally conceded after I told her about the babies.”

Tyrande’s head whipped around, “Babies!?”

Thalyssra nodded, “The healer detected more than one- twins.”

“Malfurion was a twin,” Tyrande’s voice was haunted. But her moment of vulnerability didn’t last. She shook her head almost violently, “No, _no._ You said you were on _suppressants!_ This can’t be possible.”

Thalyssra felt her hackles rise at the implication, “I _was_ on suppressants!” Her face twisted up into a scowl, “And you were the one who came to _me_ that night! Not the other way around!”

“Well forgive me for the weakness, Arcanist,” Tyrande glared at her. “I was rather engulfed in mourning my husband’s death!”

“You have a _funny_ way of showing it, priestess!”

The sole remaining leader of the Night-Elves was undoubtedly _very_ close to brutally murdering her, and probably would have if her eyes hadn’t darted down to her slightly swollen stomach. She stared at the nightborne tensely, “I’m just trying to understand how this happened.”

“So am I,” Thalyssra’s glaring contest with Tyrande ended when the omega turned away, grabbing a set of folders from her table. “These are the maternity requests I’ve gotten since the death of the Nightwell. It’s nearly double what we’ve had during the last _century,_ and that number is _still_ rising.”

“Are you trying to say that the Nightwell’s destruction altered the Nightborne’s fertility?” Tyrande actually seemed to consider it. “I admit something similar _did_ happen to my people after Nordrassil was lost in the Third War.”

“Even so,” the High-Priestess glared. “The political implications of this are indescribable! The children could very well grow up with a claim to both Shal’dorei and Kaldorei leadership.”

“That was the point the Warchief was making,” The omega looked warily at the irate alpha. “We were _both_ born in Suramar, Whether we like it or not, it _is_ rather symbolic, is it not? Our people may be disconnected, but we are still the same at heart. Maybe it’s time to bridge the gap that’s grown over these last few thousand years.”

She already knew Tyrande wasn’t fond of her. The alpha had made that _very_ clear the morning after their drunken romp in the sheets, but this situation had just become a thousand times more complicated than simply being a one-night stand gone bad. 

She knew that the priestess would be thinking of this long into the night, and that was _ok._ She wouldn’t beg for help, wouldn’t beg for Tyrande to be a part of the childrens’ lives. If it came down to it, she was perfectly happy with raising them in Suramar, letting the little ones remain blissfully unaware of their true parentage until they were old enough to understand the severity of the situation. 

Tiredness pulled at her shoulders, “I do not care if you want to be involved or not.” Thalyssra removed her outer robe and hung it on a hook, the very slight bump on her stomach was barely visible, “That is your choice, not mine. Whether or not you want to be present in their lives is entirely up to you.”

“I have no intentions of abandoning my own offspring,” Tyrande’s words were carefully measured, and she rose from her seat with feline grace, “You will have my answer in the morning, First Arcanist.” She walked past her without a second look, “Sleep well.”

Suramar’s leader was quick to close the door after her, hastily latching locks into place with shaking hands. 

Then she went to her room, jumped into bed, and screamed her frustrations into the pillows.

The following morning she awakens to a kaldorei page knocking politely on the door, a large envelope in her hands. 

She opens it to receive her answer- a contractual marriage proposal from Tyrande Whisperwind, designed to safe-guard the treaty between the Horde and Alliance, and fulfilled by the existence of their unborn children. 

If she accepts her kids would stand to be leading figures of a joined Suramar and Darnassas, and in the meantime her people would gain a valuable ally that reaches across faction lines. 

Thalyssra thinks hard the entire morning, weighing her options carefully. 

Then just before lunch, she abruptly stands from her couch, grabs a pen, and signs her name on the agreement line. 

Suddenly, her future somehow seems safer and yet still dangerously uncertain. 

Thalyssra can’t help but wonder what the hell it is that she just got herself into. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They don’t have a ceremony. Instead, there’s a small banquet celebration at the end of the negotiations. 

They had to negotiate the timeline for their residence plans. Thalyssra agrees to spend half the year in Kaldorei territory, while Tyrande comes with her to Suramar for the other half. 

There’s still several months till she’s due to give birth, and they decide to start the cycle in Teldrassil, before moving to Suramar for the actual birth. 

Whatever the case, it’s unarguable that the children must be born in Suramar. The symbolic significance of that is clear. 

The first night is tense. Their sleep schedules are off-sync, and Thalyssra ends up going to bed much earlier than Tyrande does. 

In the early hours of the morning, the slight creaking of the bed is what alerts her of the High-Priestess’s presence, and she’s further awakened by the nudging she receives in the side as Tyrande tries to get comfortable. 

The bed and frame are both newly designed. It seems that Whisperwind didn’t fancy having Thalyssra in the same bed as the one she shared with her late-husband. 

But the omega can hardly complain about that- she knows Tyrande is still in mourning. She can’t blame her for her pain, not when she couldn’t possibly understand the trauma that losing a mate of over ten-thousand years could bring.

If anything, she rather appreciates the new plush mattress that’s brought in. It’s much more reminiscent of what she’s used to in Suramar, and works wonders in being able to get her to relax. 

The scented oils she usually puts on before bed are ignored. The way Tyrande’s nose had wrinkled up in distaste at the sight of them had been hint enough about that.

When the bed creaks, Thalyssra’s eyes snapped open as if she’s been slapped straight across the face. 

For a second, there’s blind panic in her veins. She doesn’t recognize the room, the bed, the blanket, the scents… nothing about this place is familiar. 

And then there’s a hand on her shoulder, grounding her back to reality, and a flush of embarrassment courses through her body as she remembers what happened. 

If Tyrande judges her for her outburst, she gives no indication. Instead, her face is steady and understanding, a stark contrast to the veiled glares they had been sharing previous to this moment. 

Outside it’s still dark, but Thalyssra can tell that the sunrise is near. Tyrande gives her a questioning look, her white night-gown seemed to glow in the moonlight trickling in from the window, “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Thalyssra’s free hand slides over her stomach, feeling the slight bump growing there. “I just forgot where I was for a moment.”

“I see,” Tyrande withdraws her own hand, conscious of how close they are. It feels rather useless now, given the fact that Thalyssra’s already pregnant, but there’s a wall between them. Neither is sure of how much personal space is enough at the moment. “I didn’t mean to startle you, but you _were_ sleeping in the middle of the bed.”

Thalyssra fights down a blush, “Sorry. I’m not used to sharing my sleeping space. I’ll move.”

She scoots over firmly onto her side of the bed, laying on her side and facing away from Tyrande. 

She can feel how the bed sinks when the alpha lays down. For a while there’s a tense silence that seems entirely too forced and unnatural. 

But slowly the tiredness wins out over her paranoia, and Thalyssra falls asleep watching the curtains dance as a light breeze flows through the open window.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several weeks later, as the quickening of her baby bump really starts to become hard to hide, Thalyssra suddenly realizes just how much she _likes_ Tyrande’s scent. 

She isn’t quite sure what it is about the alpha’s lilac-vanilla smell, but she catches herself snuggling the priestess’s pillows whenever Tyrande’s not around. Her clothes become ridiculously easy to sniff out when not thrown into the laundry basket, and Thalyssra wakes several times in the night to find that she’s migrated over towards Tyrande’s side of the bed. 

It’s horribly embarrassing, and she tries hard to not make this whole thing obvious. She knows it is probably a side-effect of the pregnancy, but it still doesn’t make things any easier. 

Thankfully, if the priestess notices, she doesn’t mention it. Instead, Thalyssra begins to find little objects strategically placed around the residence that carry the alpha’s scent. 

It’s enough to keep her odd pregnancy tendencies under control for another month. 

But that all changes once the _dreams_ start. 

She can never fully remember them, but guesses that they must revolve around more _intimate_ encounters if the wetness that develops between her legs is any indication. 

When she awakens from her dreams, the room is far too hot and is stifled by the scent of her arousal. 

It sends her running for the bathroom chamber before Tyrande comes to bed. 

She sits in a cold bath until the arousal passes, dries herself off, and then returns to bed.

The alpha’s already lounging underneath the covers, facing away from her side of the bed. 

She can’t tell if Tyrande’s asleep or not, but the faint smell of her previous arousal is _still_ lingering in the air. 

It’s embarrassing, to say the least. 

The arcanist climbs into bed carefully, burying herself under the large over-sized blanket, and facing away from the body behind her. 

Tyrande’s scent is slightly invasive. It lingers on her pillows, and covers the entirety of the bed. 

There’s a cold chill in her heart, and she worries that the alpha’s picked up on Thalyssra’s predicament. 

But nothing happens, and the omega falls into a restless sleep that lasts half-way into the next day. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two months later, Thalyssra’s mid-wife nearly scolds her ears off when she discovers the fact that the married couple is having _no sex._

It’s kinda embarrassing, but Thalyssra’s thankful that she chose to go alone to this check-up, because it would be even worse if Tyrande was there getting yelled at too. 

“It’s not good for your mental and physical well-being,” the midwife huffs. “When the sire’s not involved, vitamins and hormone treatments are given out in place of regular contact, but that should have started _months_ ago if this was going to be the case.”

“I didn’t realize it would be a problem,” Thalyssra pushes a strand of her hair behind a long ear. “The hormones your body is producing will unbalance you if they are not dealt with,” the elder kaldorei woman said. “Uncontrollable arousal is only _one_ symptom that can manifest. How would you like to start having morning sickness again as well?”

Thalyssra feels a ball of dread well up within her at the thought, “I wouldn’t want that.”

“Then I suggest having a talk with your alpha about taking care of your needs,” the midwife glared pointedly at her. “Or if the situation permits it, finding someone else who will. I can start you on vitamins, but it’s too late for hormone treatments at this point. Intimate activity is your best natural choice.”

“Just get me the vitamins,” Thalyssra pinches the bridge of her nose irritably. “I’ll see if I can talk with Tyrande about this.”

She leaves with a small bottle of vitamins and a prescription for more sex, as crazy as it sounds.

Her only worry has to do with how the hell she’s supposed to explain it to her hard to talk to ‘wife.’

~~~~~~~~~

They eat dinner together, a usual occurrence. Most of the time they eat in relative silence, only talking about the necessities. 

Today, Thalyssra breaks protocol, “I went to see the midwife today.”

Tyrande pauses, her fork lowering back to her plate, “Is something wrong?”

“The babies are fine,” Thalyssra rests a hand over the growing swell of her stomach. “The midwife was more concerned with me.”

“What is it?” The Priestess sets down her fork completely. “Are you unwell?”

“Not yet,” Thalyssra sighs. “The midwife told me that my hormones were causing some unwanted side-effects, and that it’s a common occurrence with a natural remedy. The only problem is that I haven’t been partaking in this remedy, or more specifically that _we_ haven’t.”

Tyrande leaned back in her chair, and it became apparent that she must have already picked up on what she was trying to say, “Sex?”

Thalyssra felt her face heat up, nodding in the affirmative, “She suggested that I become active in that regard, either with you or someone else. I do have a few past acquaintances who-”

“No,” Tyrande shook her head. “There’s already enough rumors floating around about the pregnancy. I won’t add issues about parentage to them. If word gets out that you’re sleeping with someone else, then this entire marriage and the treaty could be put at risk.”

Thalyssra clears her throat nervously, “Right. I just thought it might be better than-”

“You’re pregnant with my child,” Tyrande deadpans. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve known you intimately. Besides,” She takes a bite of her salad, “It’s not like I haven’t been smelling your arousal in the room.”

“I tried to cover it,” Thalyssra muttered, picking at her own food. 

“Regardless,” Tyrande was too uncaring. “I knew this was probably coming. If you require my attention, we can take care of things before bed.”

Thalyssra should have been fine with that, it was straight and to the point. 

But the omega _hated_ being treated like a chore, especially when it came to something as delicate as intimacy, which Thalyssra was _very_ finicky about. 

She set her own fork down, “No. I’d rather let someone else fuck me than be treated like just another chore to get off your checklist.”

Tyrande glared, “You’re not-”

“Yes I am,” Thalyssra felt her entire body tense. “Ever since we married, I feel like I constantly have to walk on eggshells around you! You ignore me, yet this entire set up was _your idea.”_

“I wanted to give the children their best chance,” Tyrande frowned. “They will grow up in a world of estranged politics. Having divided loyalties would have only been a hindrance.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Thalyssra scoffed. “I’m sure they won’t have any worries at all over the fact that their sire can’t stand to stay in their mother’s presence for more than ten minutes!”

Tyrande’s scent flared; her face frozen in a picture of anger. The alpha stood from her seat, and Thalyssra did the same. She refused to cower or back down. She was the First Aracnist of Suramar, and such a position wasn’t easily gained. Maybe she’d been playing it safe these last few months, but Thalyssra had an unbreakable backbone of courage, and she wasn’t about to let her so-called alpha forget that.

And yet something about her response seemed to trigger a reaction in Tyrande, the High-Priestess’s eyes going dark with something much more _alluring._

Something much more reminiscent of the night that created the very life growing inside her.

“Docility doesn’t suit you,” Tyrande noted, a tone of appreciation in her voice. 

“It does when I’m not constantly under stress,” Thalyssra warily replies, her nose scenting the new pheromones slinking through the air. 

Tyrande sinks back into her chair; there’s a smirk on her face, but it no longer feels condescending, “Then perhaps we should strive to make this marriage less stressful in all regards, now shouldn’t we?”

Thalyssra seats herself once more, grabbing her fork and relaxing as the atmosphere losses it’s previous suffocating tension.

“Perhaps we should.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night Thalyssra doesn’t expect Tyrande to actually make a move. 

To her eternal and somewhat shocked surprise, the priestess proves her wrong. 

Tyrande is far more of a perceptive lover than she had been the night that started all this. 

Perhaps it was the fact that they were both far too drunk that caused this, but Thalyssra finds herself wholeheartedly impressed by the gentleness she’s shown. 

It starts with a slight touch on her shoulder, one that’s followed by the smooth press of lips to her neck. 

Tyrande’s teeth grazed over the unmarked skin, and Thalyssra bit back a moan as a hand delved between her thighs. 

“You really are the most confusing person I’ve ever met,” her voice shakes as that hand masterfully stimulates her sensitive core. 

“Does that mean you want me to stop?” Tyrande nips at her ear. 

Thalyssra let out a breathy sigh as two fingers slipped inside her, “No. Don’t stop. _Please_ don’t stop.”

Tyrande does better than that. She flips the First Arcanist onto her back, and pulls open the robe to expose her body. She runs her hands down over swollen breasts, presses a kiss to Thalyssra’s curved stomach, and gently eases her thighs open as she lowers herself between them. 

The firm press of a tongue against her clit forces a whining moan out of the nightborne’s mouth, her back arching as far as her body would allow. 

Tyrande holds her hips down firmly, her tongue working it’s magic just a little too well. 

Her orgasm builds quickly; Thalyssra isn’t shy in directing Tyrande to the right spots to stimulate for pleasure, and she’s pushed over the edge rather easily. 

Her toes curl into the sheets, and she pulls a pillow over her face as her hips ride out the wave. 

When she comes back to reality, her chest heaving from catching her breath, Tyrande releases her grip and climbs back up her body. 

Their lips meet in a somewhat tender kiss, one that lasts only a few seconds before Thalyssra rolls them over. 

Tyrande looks up at her with a raised eyebrow, her face still infuriatingly calm and collected, “And just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Repaying the favor,” Thalyssra smoothly replies. “I’ve never been one to simply lay back and let the other do all the work.”

“Odd, since I vividly remember you being very much a pillow queen,” Tyrande mused, unworried by the small glare she received in return. 

Thalyssra scoffs, “I may be a pillow queen, but that doesn’t mean I don’t make sure my partner is taken care of. I sucked you off that night, and you know it.”

Tyrande laughs, lifting her hips as Thalyssra removes her pants and undergarments, “Whatever you say, First Arcanist.”

The oddly domesticity of their banter nearly makes Thalyssra freeze, but she catches herself and goes back to the job. 

Tyrande’s clit hadn’t extended yet, but Thalyssra could tell it wasn’t far off. She remembers vaguely it being much the same on that fateful night, and recalls having to use her mouth to make it engorge. 

This time is no different. Thalyssra forms a suction circle with her mouth around the large clit, teasing it with her tongue momentarily before sucking lightly on the fleshy little piece. 

Tyrande gives an appreciative moan at that, her hips jolting in response to the stimulus she’s receiving. Thalyssra switches between licking and sucking every minute or so, a feeling of vindication rising in her mind as the alpha’s member finally starts to elongate into her mouth. 

A firm hand fists into her hair, Tyrande’s other grabbing at the soft sheets. 

Thalyssra uses her hands to stroke what doesn’t go all the way into her mouth, forming a rhythm that the priestess quickly becomes appreciative of. 

Several minutes past, and Tyrande’s muscles start to tense, her body moving in anticipation of that sweet, needed release. 

When she comes, Thalyssra’s ready, swallowing up her release as Tyrande’s hands push on the back of her head. She very nearly chokes, but simply laughs off the action when her lips release their hold of the throbbing member with an audible wet pop, “I think you might be more of a pillow queen than I am, Whisperwind.”

Tyrande’s face is flushed as she pulls Thalyssra back up the bed, stripping the purple robe off her body and pushing the omega down onto her front. 

Thalyssra recognizes the position she’s going for, and spreads her legs to better accommodate the legs now placed between her own. 

Tyrande leans forward, her lips brushing against her ear, “You have a smart little mouth, you know that!?”

Thalyssra smirks into the pillow, “I am aware.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Something changes between them after that night; there’s no longer a sense of dread, or of doom constantly following them anymore. 

It seems like there’s a pleasant understanding. 

It’s still a bit awkward in bed, but at least there’s no longer any outright animosity between them _._

Days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months. Soon it’s time to make the move to Suramar, and her due date looms ominously before them. 

Valtrois had unhesitatingly accepted the very important duty of designing the babies’ nursery, and Thalyssra had to admit that her lifelong friend had done an excellent job.

Tyrande turns her nose up at the excessiveness of the Nightborne’s design style, but reluctantly admits that the nursery is still remarkably decorated. 

Two cribs are pushed up against a wall, and there’s matching changing tables opposite of them. 

Thalyssra sits in the rocking chair that Shandris had gifted them and looks over the various pieces of clothing that they’d collected these past few months for the coming children. 

Valtrois had gifted them a whole wardrobe, designed to work for both girls and boys. 

The First Arcanist holds up a small purple onesie and smiles at the decorative swirls of white that are threaded into the cloth, “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

Tyrande looks over from where she’s stocking the changing tables, “I fear Valtrois may kill me if I said otherwise.”

“She is rather proud of her sense of style, isn’t she?” Thalyssra chuckles, “A trait common to most Shal'dorei.”

“At least you’re much more humble about it,” Tyrande turned to the window, looking over the city with a faraway expression. “This place isn’t what I remember.”

“I’m sure the eldest of Suramar’s citizens could say the same of you,” Thalyssra replied, folding the onesie and placing it in the basket of clothes next to her. “I doubt anything on Azeroth is still the same as when you were young.”

“Ash’alah would disagree,” Tyrande replied lightly, staring down into the gardens where her loyal feline companion lounged lazily in the sun. 

“Gods forbid I ever forget the cat,” Thalyssra nearly laughed, before her face turned into a wince. 

She placed a hand over her stomach, feeling the phantom pains of a false contraction, “They’re happening more often now. It won’t be long until the real show starts.”

“Anduin suggests hosting the blessing at Hyjal,” Tyrande says. “It’s a location that holds value to many races, while also remaining sacred to my people.”

“As long as someone else plans it,” Thalyssra sighs. “I fear most of our attention will be occupied by the twins once they’re here.”

“True,” Tyrande concedes. “I’ve never met a creature more demanding than that of a newborn.”

Thalyssra nods her head slightly, “This will be a battle I haven’t fought before.”

For a second, Tyrande appears hesitant, the alpha looking away uncomfortably as she pulled on the collar of her dress, “I never imagined I would sire children. Malfurion couldn’t carry, and while the chance was very slight that I could, we still tried for many years.”

“Alpha females falling pregnant isn’t unheard of,” Thalyssra acknowledged. “It’s not impossible.”

“That’s what the fertility healers told us,” Tyrande sighs unhappily. “Unfortunately, after a few centuries of no luck, I was inspected.” She looked away, “An injury from the Well of Eternity’s implosion rendered my uterus barren. Even if I did conceive, the chance of carrying a child to term was nonexistent.” 

“I’m sorry,” Thalyssra swallowed uneasily. “That must have been hard to hear.”

“It was,” Tyrande smiled lightly. “But we did have Shandris. That girl has been a gift sent from Elune to my life. For a time, I thought she’d be the only child we’d ever have, adopted or not. But she made it all ok.”

“She’s strong and brave for all she’s been through,” Thalyssra bowed her head. “If I had half the resolve she had, perhaps I could have stopped Elisande sooner.”

Tyrande stares at her for a long moment, before turning her head back towards the window, “I think you don’t give yourself enough credit, First Arcanist.”

Thalyssra grins slightly, the sight hidden as she inspected another onesie, “We can agree to disagree on that, High-Priestess.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens after...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, you all had such a good reaction to the first part that I knew I had to add a 'epilogue' for your reading pleasure!  
> Warning- there is a slightly more explicit sex scene in this chapter, so you can go ahead and skip this if that isn't your cup of tea. This is an omegaverse story, so stay aware of that!  
> I don't own Warcraft.

Thalyssra wakes to the pitter-patter of little feet, her eyes opening to watch as her two children come running into the room with matching looks of excitement on their faces. 

The twins launch themselves onto the bed with impressive leaps, the sound of Tyrande’s surprised yelp sending them into a fit of giggles as the priestess found herself abruptly awakened. 

“Min’da!” Malvyrie, the younger of the two, climbs onto the bewildered alpha before Tyrande even knows what’s happening. “It’s time to get up!”

“Sweetheart, it’s far too early to be getting up,” the priestess sits up, one hand rubbing at her eyes. “I’ve only been asleep for a few hours.”

“Mama said we’d go see Shandris when you guys got up,” Dalya, the elder of the two, chimes in. “You’re up, it’s time to go!”

“She’s got you there,” Thalyssra turns over to look at the three with an amused expression. The twins, now the ripe age of eight, both squeal excitedly when they realize their other parent is awake. 

Malvyrie scrambles over to her, “Mama! Tell Min’da it’s time to go! We wanna see Shandris!”

“Malvyrie says it’s time to go,” Thalyssra deadpans to Tyrande, who groans in defeat as Dalya crawls onto her sire’s stomach. 

“Fine, fine!” Tyrande lifts her elder daughter off of her, a slight smile coming to her face as the girl giggles happily at being lifted into the air. “Go make sure you have your bags ready! You’ll be staying with your big sister for almost two weeks!”

“Yes min’da!” The two girls clambered off the luxurious mattress, before rushing out of the master bedroom and down the hall towards their own room. 

Tyrande collapses back into the pillows, rubbing her face with tired hands as Thalyssra props her head up onto one hand to look at her, “Tired?”

“I stayed up far too late working on the reports for the summit,” the alpha sighed. “Elune save me from another two weeks of arguing and threats of war.”

“To be fair, you are usually the one threatening war,” Thalyssra trails her fingers up her wife’s bare arm. “You never can keep your temper in check when the Warchief speaks. I have half a mind to think you two would come to blows if Jaina wasn’t there to keep Sylvanas in line.”

“I still can’t believe a renewal mating mark worked with them,” Tyrande shook her head. “We all knew Sylvanas and Jaina had history, but I never realized they were actually  _ mated  _ before her death.”

“Jaina told me it was one of the reasons why Arthas targeted her during his assault against Quel-Thalas,” Thalyssra murmured quietly, pressing a kiss to her wife’s shoulder. “He was jealous, and thought Sylvanas had stolen Jaina from him.”

“I hate everything about her,” Tyrande growled. “But I would be lying if I said I don’t pity her. She may be a horrid monster, but I suppose that could happen to someone who’s been through what she has.”

“I think Jaina’s calming her down,” the First-Arcanist fell back into her own plush-pillows. “She’s easily one of the only ones able to keep up with Sylvanas’s… self…”

Tyrande smirks and leans down, pressing her partner into the bed as their lips meet in a long kiss. 

Thalyssra flicks her hand, and the doors slam shut, the locks clicking into place. Tyrande pulls back, her eyes burning straight into the nightborne’s soul, “How long until the girls finish packing?”

“Ten minutes,” Thalyssra’s body jolts as a hand paws at her breast. “Give or take whether or not they pack swimsuits too.”

Tyrande presses a kiss to Thalyssra’s neck, her grin can be felt against the unmarked skin, “Not enough time, since you  _ still  _ need to pack as well.”

Thalyssra groans, “I nearly forgot.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two days in and already Thalyssra’s over the entire summit. 

At first, things seem to go smoothly. The first day is remarkably productive, and there’s actually fifteen successful provisions approved by the lot of them. 

The second day, Greymane decides to remember that he’s supposed to hate Sylvanas’s guts, and they bicker for nearly the entire meeting. 

Of course, almost everyone gets sucked into it one way or the other, but Thalyssra herself chooses to remain silent. 

Instead she watches with a growing headache as the room descends into chaos before they finally break for lunch. 

Unfortunately, lunch consists of the visiting diplomats from the other races trying to kiss up to the leaders, and Thalyssra finds herself painfully reminded of the social divide that exists between their people. 

Especially when it comes to the dynamics. 

The human dignitaries are the most insufferable, and it’s clear that even Anduin is not keen on the nobles from his own city. 

They are obsessed with decorum and the ‘natural order’ of things, which leads them to turn their noses up at Thalyssra and greet Tyrande first when they finally decide to introduce themselves. 

Had Thalyssra not been trained in politics for several thousand years, she might have been insulted. 

Instead, she tightens her grip on Tyrande’s arm, who stiffens at the blatant disrespect that occurred right in front of her. 

“Ah, First Arcanist,” The aging alpha human sniffs the air as if he’s sampling a fine wine, and Thalyssra has half the mind to flood the air with pheromones designed to knock him on his ass. “You look well. Motherhood must suit you.”

“It is a demanding job,” Thalyssra smiles thinly. “Thankfully, my dear wife spends most of the time with the children. It gives me the freedom needed to run Suramar.”

The group of humans, two alphas and three betas if her nose was correct, all exchanged looks- the men completely missing how Tyrande’s ire was rising against them. The eldest of the betas gave Thalyssra a humorous look, “The  _ Priestess _ looks after the children?”

“What of it!?” Tyrande’s patience finally snaps, “I am very fortunate to have many competent subordinates taking care of my duties so that I may spend time with my daughters. Suramar does not operate under the same rules, and requires my wife’s utmost attention on a daily basis. She is capable in a way that most people cannot match.”

“We meant no offence,” a quieter beta raised his hands in peace. 

“Of course,” the first alpha spoke again. “We only meant that it is odd to us that the alpha remains at home, since it is traditionally the omega’s job.”

“Our cultures are very different, noble sir,” Thalyssra’s voice betrayed nothing. “Our people do not carry such barbaric ideas regarding the dynamics.” She smiled thinly, “And I’m sure your king would be absolutely  _ delighted  _ to hear you sprouting such antiquated beliefs to some of Stormwind’s closest allies.”

The group went pale, their faces being perfect pictures of fear. 

“How  _ dare  _ you speak to us like that!” The second of the alphas steps forward, a younger man who has to crane his head to look at her.  _ “Omegas  _ have no place-”

“ _ What is going on here!?” _

The group freezes as Anduin’s voice cuts across their conversation, the beta king glaring evilly at his nobles as he storms over, “Strankle! How  _ dare  _ you spew such hatred to our allies! You will apologize!”

“My king, I-”

Anduin drew himself to his full height, staring down at the quivering alpha as Tyrande and Thalyssra watched with veiled amusement, “I said  _ apologize,  _ before I have you stripped of your titles and sent home.”

“Forgive me, High-Priestess, First Arcanist,” the alpha bows lowly. “I meant no offence.”

“Of course,” Thalyssra smiles. “Apology accepted.”

Tyrande stares at the group as if they were nothing more than fleas instead of responding, a smirk coming over her face as Anduin shoo’s the nobles away. 

The kaldorei leader gives the blonde an appreciative look, “It seems as if your backbone is finally coming in, High-King.”

Anduin laughs lightly, “Yes well, Wrathion and Taelia still remain much more adequate at handling the nobles, but I get the chance to shine every now and then.”

They exchange hugs, and Tyrande takes a moment to really look at the beta’s face, “By Elune’s light, you’re all grown up.” She nods, “You’ve become a fine young man. If only your father was here to see it.”

“I’m sure he’d be proud to see I’ve become taller than he was,” Anduin embraces Thalyssra quickly, then rubs at his nose as he pulls away. “New perfume?”

Thalyssra frowns and sniffs at her coat, “No? What, do I smell?”

Tyrande leans in, sniffing at her neck. When she pulls back, there’s a slightly embarrassed look on her face. She gives Anduin a look, “Forgive the request, but I think we may need to leave a bit early today.”

Anduin’s eyes light up in realization, and he takes a step back sheepishly, “Of course. I’ll send missives if anything regarding your nations needs to be dealt with.”

Tyrande bows her head once, before turning and dragging a still very-confused Thalyssra away from the area. 

When they reach the hall to their temporary chambers, Tyrande stops and turns back towards her wife, “I didn’t mean to pull you from the area so quickly, but I didn’t want anyone else close enough to smell.”

Thalyssra smells at her coat again, “Smell what? Do I stink or something?”

“No,” Tyrande chuckles lightly, leaning back against the alabaster wall. “I think your heat is coming early. I can smell the pheromones sitting on your neck. Anduin must have accidentally scented them when you hugged.”

Thalyssra cursed, “It’s the new suppressants, they’re supposed to regulate my heats to once a year. But the first few months can have short pseudo-heats while my body adjusts to the new hormones.” She rubs at her forehead, "I suppose that explains why the dignitaries have been strutting around me like peacocks all day."

Tyrande looked back down the hall, eyeing a group of roaming champions suspiciously, “Let's go back to our chambers. Better to be behind secured doors once your body really starts projecting.”

“Do you not want to portal back?” Thalyssra suggests. 

Tyrande shakes her head, “The chambers should be secure enough. If we start getting other alphas slamming against the doors, we’ll head back to Suramar.”

“I doubt anyone will be slamming against the doors,” Thalyssra replied lightly. “The healer said the pseudo-heats shouldn’t last more than two days. We can stick around and you’ll just tell them I’m feeling unwell. Anduin won’t say anything, and the others will be too busy bickering to question it.” 

Tyrande opens the doors to their chambers, “Very well.” She gestures into the room, “After you.”

Thalyssra smiles, swaying her hips teasingly as she struts past the alpha. 

Tyrande tries not to stare, shaking her head of tempestuous thoughts as she follows after her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An omega’s heat is one of their most vulnerable moments, and the ancient laws that both Tyrande’s and Thalyssra’s people follow have remained the same since the days of the Night Elf Empire.

The most important was the rule of consent. Only an omega’s  _ marked  _ mate could initiate intimacy with their partner during their heat cycles.

So while Tyrande may have been married to Thalyssra, because they both remained unmarked, she still had to wait for her invitation to bed her. 

It was a law of trust and protection, one that even legend says Queen Aszhara followed to the utmost degree.

Thalyssra’s usually not one to wait around or tease.

Still, even she has to admit that it’s funny to watch Tyrande pace around on the balcony, pinching her nose and fighting her demons as the pheromones that Thalyssra’s projecting drifts into her nostrils. 

It’s a cycle they’ve been through before. Tyrande banishes herself outside while she waits for Thalyssra’s permission, which the omega is always quick to give. 

As the day progressed, the tell-tale tingling on her skin grew. The sensitive area between her thighs began to pulse with arousal, and her breasts grew quite tender. 

She sat at the table, sorting through reports while her head was still clear enough to do so. 

She was already becoming painfully slick by the time the moon had climbed midway into the sky, and decided she had waited long enough. 

“Ty,” She only ever uses the nickname in moments like these. “Join me?”

Tyrande pushes the curtains aside and stalks in, closing the balcony doors behind her with a huff, “Four hours? You usually don’t make me wait past one.”

“Sorry,” she offers an indulgent smile as she gestures at the stack of papers. “Thought I’d finish the reports you’d need tomorrow.”

Tyrande sweeps her up into her arms, an impressive act considering their height difference, and offers a kiss to her cheek, “How thoughtful.”

When they sweep into the room, there’s a tradition they go through. They take off any makeup, change into silky pajamas robes, undo their elaborate hairstyles, until finally Tyrande throws her onto the bed and fucks her senselessly for most of the night. 

The alpha sits at the vanity as Thalyssra undo the clasps and jewels that have been placed into her meticulously kept hair. The green strands shift through her fingers like silk, the hair feeling incredibly soft to the touch. 

Inwardly, Thalyssra smirks. Tyrande could say what she will about Shal'dorei pride, but the First Arcanist has certainly never met someone as prideful of their hair as Tyrande’s become. 

After she removes every physical piece, the omega brushes out her wife’s hair, something that causes the alpha to purr as she uses her hands to replace the brush, scratching at the kaldorei’s scalp.

“You really are just an overgrown kitten,” Thalyssra muses, smiling indulgently as Tyrande pushes her head back into her hands. “No wonder Ash’alah sticks to your side.”

The green-haired night-elf snorts, “She recognizes a fellow comrade.”

“As you say,” they switch spots. Thalyssra never ties her hair up or back, but the special decorative items of an arcanist still need to be removed from floating around her head. Tyrande removes them carefully, staying all too aware of the time she had grabbed one too roughly and was rewarded with a shock. 

After everything’s been removed, Tyrande takes her time brushing her hair out. She untangles every strand, running her fingers through soft white fibers, before leaning down and pressing a kiss against the skin of a bare shoulder. 

A shudder runs through her entire body, and Thalyssra nearly has to bite down a moan as a hot flash of pleasure runs down her spine. 

In the early days of their marriage, back when sex had been done mostly to bring relief during her pregnancy, there had been a lot of unknowns regarding the boundaries of their bodies. 

Now, several years of experience and experimentation later, a comfortable balance had been found- an understanding of their more delicate needs, both physical and emotional. 

Love was still a word that hadn’t been said, but given Tyrande’s past relationship with her departed mate of nearly ten thousand years, Thalyssra couldn’t bring herself to care. 

They were overly fond and protective of each other, and they shared two beautiful twin daughters. They stayed monogamous, and did their best to support each other in whatever way they could. 

For Tyrande, that meant being there to help Thalyssra whenever things seemed to overwhelm her, whenever the nightmares woke her at night and she needed someone to calm her down. 

For Thalyssra, that meant being a shoulder for Tyrande to cry on whenever the anniversary of Malfurion’s death passed. It meant being sympathetic to her wife’s pain, and to understand that no given amount of time could possibly be enough for the High-Priestess to get over a loss of that magnitude. 

Their relationship required work, and it certainly wasn’t always nearly as perfect as they made it seem. But there was  _ progress,  _ and for them that was enough. 

Sex between them during the regular times was always a game of give and take, sometimes Tyrande put in more work, and sometimes it was Thalyssra. 

But during her heats, it was quite different. Tyrande was unarguably in charge at such times, and she was very much a giver when it came down to it. 

When they transitioned to the bed, their robes were tossed aside. 

Before she knew it, Thalyssra found herself straight on her back, a head buried between her thighs. Hands drifted up to grab at her breasts, and the omega couldn’t hold back the soft whimpers and moans that escaped as a talented tongue lapped at her overly sensitive clit. 

Her hips jolt and her legs shake as her head falls back against the pillows. A single hand releases one of her breasts, and ventures back downwards. 

Her inner walls clench down greedily as two fingers push into her throbbing entrance, and she rapidly feels her orgasm approaching as the fingers move in an upwards ‘come-hither’ motion that brushes against that  _ special  _ spot inside of her. 

When she cums, stars explode behind her eyelids, and Thalyssra muffles her moaning cry into a pillow as her entire body spasms with glorious pleasure. 

Tyrande never stops after the first one when she’s in heat. The High-Priestess keeps pushing her body, and Thalyssra can barely catch her breath as that talented tongue works with her fingers at bringing the omega to her climax over and over and  _ over  _ again. 

By the fifth time there’s another feeling building deep inside her, one that Thalyssra has only ever experienced during her heats, and one that Tyrande  _ knows  _ will happen if she gets the omega to orgasm enough times. 

Tyrande pushes one leg up against her chest, her hand holding the limb there as the fingers inside her move against that rough little spot mercilessly. Her lips form a suction around Thalyssra’s swollen, abused clit, which effectively turns the First Arcanist into a mewling, quivering mess. 

At first it always feels uncomfortable, embarrassingly enough it’s like she almost has to pee. But then the urge passes, it’s ‘full’ sensation is replaced by one of pleasure, and Thalyssra can’t hold back the pleading that breaks from her mouth as she hovers right on the edge of release.

Tyrande complies, and Thalyssra’s mind goes blank as she’s hit with some of the most intense spikes of pleasure she’s ever felt in her life. 

When her body comes down from the high, she realizes just how  _ wet  _ she is. Tyrande’s staring up at her with a self-satisfied smirk, her head propped up on one hand as her other gently strokes the inside of her thigh, “It only took five tries to get you to squirt this time.”

Thalyssra chuckles, her arm thrown over her face, “How many was it last time?”

“Seven.”

“Ah,” the omega roles over, presenting herself in a way that she  _ knows _ excites Tyrande. “A new record.”

Sure enough, the alpha moves, getting herself into position as she grabs at Thalyssra’s hips. A single hand smacks against her backside, and the arcanist can’t help how her inner walls clench down in anticipation as something long and hard pushes teasingly at her entrance. 

No matter how long they spend on foreplay, they always start the main event with Thalyssra on her hands and knees. Tyrande’s quite fond of the position, going all the way back to the first time they had sex.

She buries her face into the pillows once she feels something push into her, the sensation leaving pinpricks of electricity running up her spine.

Thalyssra likes to get straight to the point when she’s in heat, and Tyrande’s tempo goes fast and hard as soon as she gets the affirmative from her wife. 

The bed shakes with each thrust as her hands fist into the sheets, and Thalyssra cries out as her front is pressed into the mattress, her hips remaining angled at just the right direction for Tyrande’s pleasure. 

The Priestess leans forward and presses her forehead against her partner’s back, murmuring a brief word of appreciation as she grinds her hips against the nightborne’s backside. 

Thalyssra’s orgasm pushes Tyrande into hers, and they both tumble to the side as the ecstasy courses through them. 

The priestess lays on her back, fighting to catch her breath as they both stare up at the ceiling. 

After a moment, the omega turns onto her side, propping her head up on one hand as she gazes expectantly at her wife, “You didn’t knot?” 

Tyrande shakes her head, her chest heaving, “Didn’t think it’d be safe to with the new suppressants you’re on.”

“The healer said there’s only a 0.05 percent chance I’ll get pregnant,” Thalyssra says. “I doubt our luck is that bad.”

“Need I remind you how we ended up married in the first place?” Tyrande rolls to face her, a single hand moving to rest on the omega’s hip. “Our run with luck is just waiting to smack us with the baby stick again.” 

Thalyssra idly twirls a strand of her hair, “Would that really be so bad?”

Tyrande freezes, an unreadable look coming over her face. She pulls away, her expression becoming angry, and Thalyssra realizes she must have said the wrong thing, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-“

“Don’t.” Tyrande’s voice shakes with something indescribable, “It’s not you. I just need a moment.”

She rises from the bed and throws on her robe; Thalyssra watches her leave with a slightly dumbfounded expression, a sinking feeling in her stomach tells her they just took one step forward and three steps back. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tyrande doesn’t return until the early morning, and it’s easy to tell from the redness of her eyes that she must have spent most of the night either crying or drinking. 

It could be both, although it is exceedingly rare for Tyrande to indulge in the necessary amounts of alcohol needed for the kaldorei to actually get drunk. 

Thalyssra had taken the time to bathe, change the bed-sheets, and go over the remaining reports. She doesn’t get a wink of sleep, and her mind keeps going back over their conversation, wondering about what caused the sudden-mood change in the alpha. 

She writes a letter to her daughters, which will be sent in the early afternoon, and takes a heavy dose of heat suppressants to block out the hormonal desire that her body’s been feeling since Tyrande’s not here to help deal with it. 

The alpha stops right before the table that Thalyssra’s seated at; she pauses for a moment, unsure of what to say, before sighing and sinking into the seat opposite of her, “I’m sorry for leaving last night. I went to the temple, hoping to gain some clarity.”

“Did you?” Thalyssra looks up at her, setting aside the report she’s been staring at for nearly an hour, “Gain some clarity, that is.”

“No,” Tyrande admits, looking lost and confused. “Elune, mother moon, she granted me a single vision.”

“What’d you see?”

Tyrande’s eyes fixed onto her, “You.”

Thalyssra can’t bring herself to speak. There’s a rock sitting in her throat, and the silence that follows is filled with tension. 

The priestess stands up and immediately starts to slowly pace around the kitchenette, “Earlier, I became upset with myself when you made the comment about a pregnancy. It wasn’t you, it was my own reaction, my own doubt.”

“What doubt?” Thalyssra knows better than to ask too many questions when Tyrande’s trying to get her thoughts out, and so she steers the conversation with one at a time.

“My doubts about whether I’ve treated you right,” Tyrande freezes by the window, looking at the view of Dalaran as the sun rises over the far horizon. “Everything that happened between us, it was all so quick, and so soon following Malfurion’s death.” She sets her jaw, her face becoming tense, “Sometimes I wonder if I’ve taken advantage of you, and if I’ve dishonored his memory. He meant  _ so much  _ to me, and he still  _ does.”  _ She sighs unhappily, “I feel as if I don’t deserve this happiness.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how losing him must have felt,” Thalyssra said. “I’ve had my share of heart-breaks over the years, but to lose a  _ mate.  _ Especially considering how long you were together, I can’t even picture how it affected you.”

“I probably would have died along with him if it wasn’t for Shandris,” Tyrande admits. “She wouldn’t leave me alone- kept me busy and moving. Kept me focused on what our people needed. It was good to have a purpose.” She shakes her head, “But I was still so angry and distrustful of everything. I remember how closed-off I became. Without him, it felt like I was fighting blind.”

“Like you lost a part of yourself?” Thalyssra guessed. 

“I suppose that’s a good way to explain it,” Tyrande smiles softly. “The night of the celebration, when we first slept together. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.” She admits, “It was the first time I’d felt a spark of interest in anyone since Mal’s death, and I guess the alcohol emboldened me enough to make a move.”

“You did look rather impressive stumbling over the furniture on the balcony,” Thalyssra humorously chimes in. “Did you know I was out there?”

“No,” Tyrande chuckles. “But when I saw you there, I swear it was like a gift from Elune. My drunk brain thought you’d be the perfect distraction to take my mind off things.” Her smile falters, “But in the morning, I felt so  _ disgusting  _ for doing that. I know I lashed out at you, but the truth is that I was just angry with myself.”

“Tyrande it’s not like you forced me into doing something I didn’t want to do,” Thalyssra ran a hand through her hair. “I saw you were upset and in desperate need of a distraction, and when you tried to initiate more, I thought, ‘What the hell, why not?’ I consented to it. The choice wasn’t a one-way street.”

“And then you got pregnant,” Tyrande sighed. “I guess I’m just afraid I’m using you for  _ that-  _ for children.”

Thalyssra blinked, “Why do you think that?”

“Because the truth is that I would  _ love  _ to have more,” Tyrande places her head in her hands. “Malfurion and I tried to get pregnant for  _ thousands  _ of years, and it never worked. And when he died, our situation occurred, and it just feels as if I had to sacrifice the love of my life for this chance.”

She turns to Thalyssra with an apologetic look on her face, “Not that I don’t love you. It’s simply hard to say those words when the man I used to say that to for nearly my entire life has only been dead for such a short time in comparison.”

“Love isn’t something I’m expecting you to throw at me, Tyrande,” Thalyssra says. “I can see that you care in other ways. You forced yourself to move on because of the situation we found ourselves in. You never had a real chance to heal. If not  _ saying  _ you love me is part of the process, I’m not going to complain about it.” Thalyssra chewed on her lip, “I’m not here to replace Malfurion, nor am I here to make you  _ forget  _ him. My only job in that regards is helping you heal from the loss, to help you get to the point where his memories aren’t painful to think about.”

“That’s where my own resolve struggles,” Tyrande reached out, gently tracing a finger along her wife’s jawline. “I still can’t think of him without it hurting. Perhaps I try too hard to not think of him at all, and then something brings what I’ve been holding in out into the open, and everything just seems like it’s too much.”

“Then tell me something joyful you can remember about him. Make those painful moments easier to think about,” Thalyssra encourages. “What was your happiest memory?”

Tyrande pauses, her mind seemed a million miles away. Then a smile appears- a sincere, genuine, tear-filled smile, and she begins to talk. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_ Three months later. _

Tyrande watches as her daughters frolic among the Temple, smiling as Dalya stops by a small flower bush and makes the buds bloom. 

She didn’t know how she would react to one of her daughters manifesting druid potential, didn’t know how she would react to the memories of her late husband that it would bring up. 

But there’d been only joy and relief; a feeling of contentment that occurred, as if it was a sign that Malfurion was still there, watching over her and protecting her family. 

Elune’s light hadn’t stopped shining down on them since the revelation, and something told the alpha that there was still more good news to come. 

Shandris watched as Malvyrie ran after her sister, the girl practically illuminating the area with her bright smile, “What’s the plan for their training?” 

“Broll offered to train Dalya once she’s old enough for an apprenticeship,” Tyrande answered, a small smile decorating her features. “Until then, she’ll go through the basics with the other students at one of the schools.”

“And what about Malvyrie?” Shandris nodded her head at the other twin, “The Priestess’s have noticed that she has an affinity for Elune’s worship, but she’s also got the workings of a mage to be.”

“Valtrois will be teaching her during our time in Suramar,” Tyrande said. “And she’ll be training with the novices in the Temple during our time in Teldrassil. We’re still trying to work out what plan she’ll follow. When she’s old enough, she can decide what practice she wants to devote herself to, or even if she wants to do both.”

“That’s quite an undertaking,” Shandris observed. She turned and began to walk, Tyrande following alongside her. They strolled through the temple grounds, looking around as people bustled around them. “How’s the new reparations looking?” 

“We have been granted exclusive trading rights with all Horde nations,” Tyrande recounted. “Sylvanas has agreed that the payments meant for the families of those who perished in the Darkshore attack will go one for another twenty years, and they’ve agreed to pay an extra pension for those who were permanently wounded for another century.”

“I can’t believe the goblin would even agree to such things,” Shandris shook her head. “Considering his love for hording wealth.”

“It seems that the Lady Proudmoore caught wind of his ‘illegal’ activities,” Tyrande chuckled. “He had to surrender 68% of his wealth for tax evasion, and that’s not counting the new tax laws that have been implemented.”

“It’s about time the little bastard got what was coming to him,” Shandris snorted, before her eyes locked onto something behind her mother. “Ah, she looks like she has some news to share.”

Tyrande turned just in time to see Thalyssra striding over to them, the twins walking on either side of their mother with matching looks of mischief. 

“Shandris!” Thalyssra greeted her with a hug, watching as the twins stared up at their older sister with stars in their eyes. “You look radiant as ever. I was hoping you could take these two down to the sentinel’s shop. I promised they could put in their orders for practice bows today, but there’s something I need to speak with Tyrande about first.”

Shandris made a show of thinking it over, all too aware of how her little sisters hung onto her every word, “Well, I don’t know… Do you think they can behave long enough to check out which bows they want?”

“We can! We can!” The girls chanted in unison, their hands coming up to clasp before their faces. “We’ll behave, we promise!”

“Alright girls,” Shandris gave Tyrande a quick hug in goodbye, before turning to make the trek down to the Sentinel’s shop with one twin hanging onto each hand. “Stay with me, ok?”

“Ok!”

Tyrande couldn’t hide the adoration in her gaze as she watched them leave, “She’s too good with them.”

“Makes you wonder when she’ll decide to have one of her own,” Thalyssra said, looking around the area to see if anyone was lingering. “Or if she’d prefer to just be a big sister.”

“I think right now her focus is on leading the Sentinels,” Tyrande acknowledges. “She’s talked of having kids, but there’s never been anyone in her life long enough to make that type of commitment. She’s dedicated to her work first and foremost.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Thalyssra sank herself onto a bench, sighing contently as Tyrande moved to sit beside her. “How’s your day been?”

“Normal so far,” the alpha replied. “I brought the girls with me to let them run around after I saw you weren’t feeling well. Everyone loves to see them, and Shandris was coming in for her rest time. They went crazy when they saw her.” She looked at the omega, “How’s your stomach feeling? Did you get a chance to go to the healer?”

“I did,” Thalyssra shifts, pulling on her collar uncomfortably. “I have to go off the suppressants for a couple of months.”

Tyrande blinks, “Why? I thought you were adjusting well to them.”

“I was,” Thalyssra smiles nervously. “Unfortunately, they’re not very effective during pseudo-heats, and the healer told me my resulting condition from that requires I go off them.”

Tyrande looks quizzingly at her, the Priestess taking a moment to think over her words, before her eyes light up in realization, “The Summit?”

“Apparently, our luck really is that bad,” Thalyssra hold up a clear bottle, the dark-blue liquid inside glows brightly. “The home-test potion came out positive, and the healer confirmed it. I’m pregnant.”

There’s white noise in her head, a thousand emotions going through her. A few months ago, she wouldn’t have taken the news well, but now there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. 

There’s hope and happiness, a general feeling and understanding that wasn’t there before. 

Tyrande kisses her before she can even speak, and the happy tears going down the alpha’s face are word enough for how she’s feeling. 

Thalyssra holds her as the Priestess buries her face into her wife’s shoulder, her arms wrapping tightly around her. 

The doubts the First Arcanist had about the new development disappears; there’s a feeling of relief that replaces it, a weight that disappears from her chest. 

Whatever happens, somehow she knows that everything’s going to be alright. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone! Hope you liked this installment. I'll be moving onto another pairing soon, so it might be awhile before we see anything from these two again.   
> Feel free to leave a comment, I love to see your reactions!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment, I love to see your feedback and reactions. I just ask that you keep it respectful please.  
> Hope you all have a great New Years!


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